


Twinkle, Twinkle, Music Box

by epherians



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Fluff, Gen, Inspired by Music, Sibling Bonding, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: Of the many miscellaneous “souvenirs” the Frye twins collected around London, the strangest had to be the musical boxes.Jacob and Evie bond over a music box, and in the process, repair their relationship. A sibling love short story.





	Twinkle, Twinkle, Music Box

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired purely out of love for the music box collectibles.

Of the many miscellaneous “souvenirs” the Frye twins collected around London, the strangest had to be the musical boxes.

There’s been beer sampling (to Jacob’s delight) and flower pressing (to Evie’s fancy), and even a collection of posters to keep updated with the news, but it was always that sudden catch of sound, a glint from the corner of your eye (if you could call it that) that could stop either twin in their tracks whilst freerunning through the streets and rooftops.

The music boxes are like lullabies, twinkling and chiming to the ears. It takes a combination of the right moment at the right time to catch that distinct sound in the midst of a rapid sprint throughout the streets, or rooftops, or train tracks. The presence of the boxes is quizzical up until the discovery of a vault unlocked by them, but for now, they are a treasure to keep (even among all the other kinds of collectibles gathered from the streets).

The worth of such treasure is an accidental discovery—Jacob found it by mistake while trying to tiptoe his way around the train car late in the night (not the easiest thing to do). The result is Evie slowly waking from her slumber, to a tinkling song that is suddenly the loudest noise in the world. Jacob is all but ready to plead for his life (let sleeping queens lie, he's learned) when his sister suddenly asks, “What is that sound?”

Jacob shuts the box and the sound goes completely still. He says after a belated beat, “Nothing!”

Evie moves to sit up. “You can play it, Jacob, I doubt the others can be disturbed by tiny little chimes.”

So Jacob opens the music box again, and the most wonderful of sounds plays. The twins are like children in an instant, discovering a lost treasure with a sense of awe and wonder.

—

After that, it's hard to avoid the small joy that springs every time a music box is played. There's a number of tunes, all different on each disc, and though they are short, it’s a pleasant kind of short that whisks their thoughts away to something of a more idyllic daydream. Anyone who comes onboard the train to rest is certain to have their heart soothed by the little tunes singing them to sleep.

Jacob’s heard his fair share of twinkling sounds from the strangest of places—rooftops, benches, even boats out on the Thames—but he does his part and collects the discs containing the Assassin emblem, fairly certain that Evie will be pleased with what happens if they manage to unlock the vault.

But speaking of the vault as of late, it's Evie who becomes reluctant to part with the discs every time they stop by to turn them in. They agreed to stop by the vault so that they wouldn’t lose what they collected, but Evie was more and more unwilling to part with the discs as she watched them go into the mechanism. Once another key went to unlock Reuge’s vault, there it would remain.

“I do miss them,” Evie says of the discs, for without them the music boxes are just boxes. “Perhaps they’re even better than the treasure Reuge has promised inside.”

Jacob has to admit, too, they're an infectious sound he couldn’t get out of his head. And this time, he agrees with Evie. He pokes fun at her nerdy interests, but doesn’t put her down for it. It’s ever endearing to see his sister so fascinated with the things she loves, and it’s what makes Evie Frye…Evie Frye.

Maybe it’s why Jacob stops by Greenie’s curio-shop one day, hoping to catch the Assassin leader while he hasn’t been aboard the train so frequently. He makes an inquiry not about Greenie’s attempts at courting, but if there have been any new arrivals of wind-up boxes that play little chime-like melodies when opened.

He happens to be in luck.

When he presents the little gift box to Evie, it is out of sheer love and admiration for the journey they've been on and the inspiration to continue.

“You’re such a thoughtful little brother,” Evie laughs. “Many thanks to you, Jacob!” And she hugs him, in what is the first in a long time that Jacob remembers how glad he is to have a twin sister.

—

Those joys don’t last forever. The music box is beautiful and soothes the twins into getting better sleep, but it doesn’t prevent the reality that comes with their job. It’s more days than none lately when Jacob and Evie find it difficult to get along.

One day, things don’t go so well. A mistake happens and the twins come home in shame. Falling back on automatic instincts, Evie does what she does best—blame Jacob. 

“You’re such a child, do you know that? Always wanting to never do as you are told!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jacob retorts, “that everything doesn’t always go _your_ way! Perhaps you should’ve just taken the mission yourself!”

“Well I would if you didn’t always keep trying to tag along!” Evie’s temper gets the better of her without stopping to think.

“So is that how you want it, then?” Jacob snarks like he got the message. “I should just bugger off and go alone even though we’re _supposed_ to be working together?”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Of course it is! Maybe I should just drop everything entirely there since you think anything I do will make the city crumble!”

“Jacob, why would you even think that?!” The way Evie asks it comes out higher and more alarmed than she expected.

“It's not like I did it to spite you!” he defends. “I can't be allowed to make mistakes? Like any other human!?”

"The thing with you, Jacob, is that you never seem to learn from them, ever!"

“I said I was sorry!”

But it's all too late once Jacob’s hand hits something as he swings outward—

_The music box._

The sound as it breaks is an uncomfortable one, its twinkling tune ceasing at once with delicate, precious parts crashing to the ground that shouldn’t have. Their argument was reaching a height of tension, but it shouldn’t have resulted in this.

Evie looks down at the broken box, interrupted from her thoughts, and her reaction shifts to hurt that an important object has been lost forever.

“You're unbelievable!” She swears as she storms out of the train car.

“I don't need to hear it from you!” Jacob shouts back, and he’s left to brew over a storm of frustrated thoughts.

—

The silence is deafening without the music box. It had been a delightful little distraction, but now the usual chugging of the train on the tracks returns, and with it, monotony. 

They don’t speak after that, not even to discuss work: Jacob has the Rooks, and Evie has Mr. Green. The air becomes awfully quiet without the twins’ usual chatter, and everyone who’s onboard the train can notice it. With the twins not on speaking terms, communication had never been so difficult, despite what they would have their friends believe.

Instead of moping eternally (like his sister) (wherever she is at present), Jacob leaves and takes the box with him.

Aleck would know how to fix it.

“Can you…?” Jacob is desperate, not curious like he was about the rope launcher. Aleck sets the box on his desk and tinkers with the (forcibly) misplaced parts.

“What an interesting little contraption,” the inventor remarks. “Music boxes are meant to be handled with care, you know.”

“Um, about that…” Jacob starts, but decides personal excuses are not worth telling a friend. “Never mind. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

“I’ll need you to get some parts for me,” Aleck instructs. “Surely your sister could help you?”

It makes Jacob pause for a moment. “Perhaps. How difficult can it be doing it alone?”

“Well, I would prefer to have this done as quickly as possible-”

“I'll do it!” Jacob answers quickly. “I can get what you need and be back straight away!”

So Aleck agrees, and tells Jacob what he needs to find. It's after the Assassin has left that Aleck starts to think he has put the pieces together…and not just literally.

He sends word to request Evie at his workshop next.

—

As for Evie, who noticed the music box’s absence right away (“Where’s the music box? Did Jacob take it? To put it with the rubbish?”), Mr. Green did his part to pass the message on.

“A message from Aleck,” he helpfully supplies. “He says you are needed at his workshop.”

“Miss Frye! I need you to gather some parts for me.”

“Whatever for?” Evie asks as she wanders in. And then she sees the box on their gadgeteer friend’s work desk.

“Ah yes, your brother brought in the box…” Aleck explains.

“Because it was broken,” she confirms, hoping to hide the hurt behind that statement.

“And you would like a hand in fixing it, I presume?”

Evie doubts for a moment. She is still bitter about that argument and the fact Jacob brought the box to Aleck first is something of a sore spot. What is he getting at? What does Jacob want? But at the same time…she can't leave the box damaged.

“Yes, please,” she answers. “Just tell me what you need and I'll bring them.”

—

By coincidence (or just being born twins), the Fryes brought in their scavenged parts at the same time. The result was a fast-paced banter of both trying to get the last word in edge-wise.

“Where did you go looking for that-”  
“I could've found that myself you know-”  
“You didn't have to help me!”  
“You didn't have to help ME!”  
“I was fine getting the thing fixed on my own!”  
“I wasn't helping Aleck for YOU-”

“AHEM!”

Aleck interrupts the squabble with a timely clearing of his throat. He is more concerned with finishing his work than to know why the twins are in such a _tremendous_ mood.

“Truth be told, I needed both of you here. Now that I've killed two birds with one stone—pardon the expression—we can get this repair underway. The parts, if you please.”

They watch him put together the box, in silence with nervous breath. Aleck must be a genius, handling the tiniest parts with precision and tinkering with a very small invention that can make music. How does he do it?

“And here we are. Good as new!” He announces when he is done. The twins are hesitant to take the box, more cautious after what happened to it last time.

They wind it up and listen closely for the sound…

Aleck _is_ a genius.

“It works again!”

“Unbelievable!”

Aleck only chuckles. “Aw, tinkering with inventions is just fascinating for me, really.”

“Aleck, how can we repay you?” Evie asks.

The inventor smiles. “For my friends, that won't be necessary. You had a hand in fixing the box with the parts you found. Just…try not to break it next time, hm?”

“We won't,” Jacob agrees. He and his sister share an affirming smile, motivated by the repaired music box and its lovely tune singing again.

—

They were extra careful upon bringing the box back to the train. They needed a special spot for it—preferably not within arm’s reach—and not near a ledge where it would be the first to fall. They settled for a place among their shelves of trinkets where it would be supported and secured by its neighbors.

After the relief that was the music box getting fixed, both twins said what was needed to clear the air.

“…I'm sorry.”

“…Me too. All this over a music box?”

“All this over a music box.”

“We’re getting rather foolish. Can’t have that ruining our quest to regain London, right?”

“Indeed.”

On second thought, the sister tugs at the brother’s arm before he's about to go.

“Sleep here tonight?” Evie gets out. “Even if you’re fine with the couch… you deserve a softer sleeping space, brother dear.”

They share the bed tonight, just like younger times, because Evie decides Jacob needs a reprieve from the cramped couch already.

As the wind-up musical box slowly stops, there is a soft whisper and a nudging reply.

“ _Goodnight, Jacob._ ”

“ _Sleep tight, Evie._ ”

And all is well for now.


End file.
